From the waning yellow moon:
Hangs the night’s drunkenness,
And in the sands somewhere!
There is a stirring of silence,
Like the stifled murmurs
Of someone unkissed, unloved –
Who prays for unanswered prayers
To the waning yellow moon.

Against this muzzled backdrop:
All along the coastal line,
Afar, Afar, Afar!
The pearl-diving waves are sore
By the precision
Of their rising-ebbing mood.
Faintly gleaming, The Empty Quarter gazes on:
Fixedly at the waning yellow moon.

Sharjah1996

Geeta Chhabra

From the book: An Indian Ode To The Emirates by Geeta Chhabra

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